


when heaven is a dream within our hands

by jingi



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, Wanderlust, au in which jongin actually knows how to use instagram, feeling lost can be a good thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 13:44:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12082242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jingi/pseuds/jingi
Summary: jongdae just wants to find an escape when he travels to rome. nothing in italy is the same, and yet somehow he finds a home away from home in between cobblestones, extra meals of gelato, and a photographer named kim jongin.





	when heaven is a dream within our hands

**Author's Note:**

> unfortunately i have not been to rome or italy at all, but i've actually been following these two photographers on instagram for a while https://www.instagram.com/picn2k/ https://www.instagram.com/jinifoto/ so check out their work for ideas of what i imagined photographer!jongin's photos could look like + scenes that inspired me! additional inspiration came from kevin oh's stardust ep, especially this song 어제 오늘 내일 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fVgWnIWM3So that i played on repeat while writing; if you like playing music while reading fics, please listen to this song as a soundtrack! the title is from the lyrics of kevin oh's "paradise." thank you to the prompter for such a lovely idea that was similar to something i had been wanting to write for a while anyways! this fic is dear to my heart so i hope you enjoy it!

stale bread and one decently sized duffle bag. how is it this easy to escape once you have enough money for a plane ticket?

but jongdae is here, walking out of baggage claim with the remaining bit of the ticket stub still in his pocket. he hasn't been on a flight this long ever, and he tells himself that he's walking faster than usual because his legs feel stiff. nothing like trying to shake off the anxiousness of being in a country a whole continent away for the first time.

an older man approaches him with the question of “taxi?” jongdae declines with a short “sorry.” luckily his bus is already sitting in its parking spot and he can board it early. there’s no air conditioning in it, but it’s better than just standing outside to wait.

the fabric seat of the bus is a little itchy, and the last bite of bread is too dry and chewy in his mouth. that's what he gets for forgetting to finish the whole thing during the flight. paris baguette, bought in seoul and buried in the bottom of his bag, and gone after he landed in italy.

jongdae picked rome because it was one of those places where you were supposed to dream, supposed to have an adventure. he hasn't been outside korea in years, and he'd never gone alone or this far away. distance. japan and taiwan are too close and jongdae's heard too much from friends who traveled there. there's a small vision of italy in his head, perhaps like mental fresco, and he wants to look past the vague images of pasta, old architecture, and opera. see what’s really there.

the bus jerks to a halt. jongdae gets off and pulls the directions to his hostel out of the side pocket of his bag. it's not a long walk, and he takes time to enjoy walking on cobblestone instead of flat concrete. some of the streetlights are older, maybe like the ones in old hollywood movies even though this isn't america, and the way they occasionally flicker makes him think of nostalgia rather than serious malfunction.

the hostel owner greets him with a wide smile, and jongdae returns it along with a nod of his head before remembering that this isn't korea and people don't really bow here. he signs the guest book after taking a few seconds to skim over the other names before his. for good measure, he also writes his name in korean next to the roman letters. even if there's no one else korean here now, maybe someone will come along and find some comfort in it.

the room is tiny, but jongdae is lucky that he somehow managed to find a single rather than have to share with a stranger for who knows how long. although there are worse things in life than having a roommate who snores, he’d rather not have to endure that while taking this trip for himself. he’ll survive the communal bathroom.

pale yellow walls, off-white sheets faded from many washes, and a light with a crooked lampshade on the nightstand are all nothing like his parents’ house, and yet there’s something comfortable and familiar about it all the same. sitting on the bed reveals that the mattress is hard enough to make jongdae’s back sore. and then jongdae remembers that his pants are dirty from sitting on a plane and bus, so he springs off the bed. within a few seconds the sleepiness hits him, and he hurries to unzip his suitcase to find sleeping clothes and his toothbrush.

luckily no one else is in the shared bathroom now, so it’s just a quick splash of water to his face to rinse off some sweat and a few minutes until he’s asleep on the stiff mattress with traces of peppermint toothpaste on his tongue.

 

-

 

it's 3 am when he wakes up. it'd be weird if he didn't have jet lag, really. purposely not planning any further beyond booking the hostel was the point: no tours he has to wake up for the next day, no pressure to see everything at designated points in time, no need to take care of things if something goes wrong because there's almost nothing in the first place. but now that he’s awake and not falling asleep any time soon, he might as well try to acquaint himself with some parts of the city beforehand.

he unlocks his phone and then realizes he didn’t get the wifi password when he first checked in. the stairs creak as he tries to walk quietly down the steps to see if the password is posted anywhere. slowly, carefully, one hand against the wall – it’s like he’s on a secret mission, complete with his phone flashlight shining in the dark. he finds the logbook, and to his relief there’s a network name followed by string of numbers on the front cover. back up the stairs and agent kim can report success, with maybe a few more creaks of the stairs than necessary.

wifi here is actually quite good. demands of tourists these days, probably – accommodations that are slightly worse for wear have that ‘authentic’ charm, but god forbid not having fast enough wifi to constantly update instagram or search blogs for those ‘top 17 things to eat in rome’ posts. jongdae might actually have to read one of those soon.

instead, a quick search of ‘traveling in rome’ leads jongdae to the blog of a korean living as an expat in rome. it’s oddly comforting at almost 4 am, sitting on his too-hard bed scrolling through pictures in the pastel and saturated filters that he’s used to seeing from his friends. sometimes the pictures are accompanied by longer explanations about the places or foods they capture, and sometimes just the location is listed with a few sentences out of sentimental novels.

jongdae gets tired again around dawn. a picture of some bridge in rome apparently called the ponte sisto is the last one he looks at before he locks his phone so he can sleep again. the water of the river at that moment of sunset is the same deep blue of the sky now, before the sun has fully risen.

 

-

 

jet lag means that jongdae misses continental breakfast and has to venture out to stop the rumbling of his stomach. the sun beats down on him as soon as he steps outside, but thankfully it’s not as hot or humid as korea is in the summer.

he spots a café that doesn’t look awfully touristy and enters, hoping he doesn’t have to fork over too many euros for his first meal here. the menu is in italian, unsurprisingly, so jongdae just orders something under a sandwich-looking category with a name that’s easier to pronounce. he finds the wifi password at the counter before he sits down. learn from your past mistakes.

his sandwich arrives piping hot, which is maybe overboard now when the sun is already making him sweat a bit. still, this is a type of learning – learning that he has to allow the sandwich to cool more than usual or else he’ll have hot cheese and pesto drip down his hands, learning that maybe he shouldn’t order this when he’s really hungry because he can’t eat it too fast, learning that this tastes really good regardless of his stinging tongue and he should learn more italian so he knows what he’s eating before he orders.

there are probably cafes around that have better internet, but one email to his mom is enough for today. not using sns much in the first place makes it easier for him now, although he probably has enough time to wait for a few pages to load if he wants. it's nicer like this when he can sit outside and listen to but not understand the different conversations around him. a chinese tour group walks by, and he vaguely recognizes snippets of mandarin that he learned during high school.

sitting still for a long time has never been something jongdae’s good at, and the sun beating down on him doesn’t help. he walks for a few blocks, following the main street so he can try familiarize himself with this area quickly. a colorful apartment building amongst grey stone; a bakery with leafy vines creating frames around the doorways; a mcdonald’s on the next corner because where isn’t there a mcdonald’s?

passing the mcdonald’s leads to a bigger road with a car horn blaring every few seconds and another rattling noise that jongdae realizes is a tram when it pulls into the stop. he hasn’t ridden one before, but it doesn’t look that different from a subway train except for the boxier design with pale green sides and the wire up top pulling it along. patting himself on the back for buying that public transport card at the airport, he lines up and steps aboard after the next tram arrives, tapping his card against the reader. he doesn’t know what direction it’s going, but he takes a picture of the stop so he can get back here later.

he finds an empty spot by a window. smears across the glass don’t obscure the view of the streets much, and jongdae’s glad. he stays seated for at least three stops and then loses count, accompanied by the italian and english announcements of each stop name.

the sun glares too brightly for a moment, and jongdae turns away from the window. someone standing by the nearest doors catches his eye. the someone is a tall, lean figure with dark clothes, navy and black, that stand out against the pale interior of the tram. the person’s face isn’t visible from jongdae’s view, but he’s intrigued for a reason he can’t quite pinpoint. maybe it’s because this person also doesn’t fit in: not italian-looking, but not an obviously american or otherwise categorizable tourist.

the tram makes a turn around a corner, and the person turns their head. full lips, tanned skin, and far too handsome of a man to be allowed. jongdae curses at himself for being weak-minded. silly.

the tram comes to a halt, and the man gets off. jongdae briefly makes note of the stop name and decides to get off too. it’s not like he was going somewhere specific in the first place.

 

\- 

 

jongdae wants to pretend that this is like a movie, him following a handsome stranger off the tram in a foreign city, but the instant blast of the hot sun and the crowd of american tourists that he almost smacks into destroy that mirage. luckily he's observant and quick enough to skip around the tourist group to still keep the handsome man in his sight. jongdae feels some guilt pooling in his stomach for following someone, but... he's also not doing any real harm. walking on the street, that's it.

the man is walking pretty slowly. streets in rome don't move as fast as the ones in seoul, nothing like subway station stairs at rush hour, but even here the man seems to be taking his time more than others. head up, not looking at a smartphone screen, not filming every second of his life with a gopro, unlike most around here. although jongdae isn't doing any of that either.

they walk - the man walks, jongdae behind him at a distance - for a few blocks and jongdae can feel sweat beads forming on his neck. he doesn't know where they are, but it seems pretty busy, so he clutches his small bag closer to him; his mother had been particularly worried about pickpockets.

he reaches an intersection and the light turns red too soon for jongdae to risk running across. not that there's any reason for him to. cars and buses whiz by, the road clears while the light stays red, and jongdae jogs across while looking carefully because it's too uncomfortable to wait in the heat for a damn traffic light. his sudden irritability isn't something he wants to think about.

he looks ahead. there's a huge old-looking church that jongdae somehow registered only in his peripheral vision before. as he approaches, he takes in the tall lines of the columns, the contrast of the straight edges and curves that make false windows, and the carved figures on top. white stone turned off-white and partly golden from age, dirt, and some rays from the sun. the church seems to sit on its own block; apart from the adjacent road, it’s not hard to imagine that the structure could have looked just like this many years ago. not like the palaces in seoul where skyscrapers are visible from over the walls of the grounds. decent for the first sightseeing spot in rome he’s accidentally run into, to say the least.

he follows the small stream of other visitors in through the giant arched door. two seconds later, he’s hypnotized. he’s never seen so much detail in one space, let alone one this big. paintings cover the ceiling, each set of figures and patterns separated by layers of golden molding. carvings of winged cherubs, more frightening than cute, are inlayed next to carvings of bells and scales with blue-painted backgrounds and a cast of golden light. he’s not the only one staring upwards and standing still at the entrance; someone’s camera clicks loudly near him. 

he starts walking inwards more, tearing his eyes away from the ceiling. the walls are just as intricate but in different ways. floor-to-ceiling columns that have the same golden casting but also bronze and white. sharp angles made softer or harder depending on the sunlight streaming through the windows. statues of human figures at least twice as tall as him in between archways, flowing robes shaped from hard marble. carvings high in the walls that look like oil paintings in their detail but monochrome and pushed out into three dimensions. even in one small section there is so much art, craftsmanship, and effort. it dwarfs jongdae, makes him feel tiny and powerless. a humbling reminder, but also inspiration of sorts; humans can do this much.

some tourists are gathered around an information desk gathering brochures and buying audio tours for the church. jongdae passes; his english probably isn’t good enough for it to be worth buying anyways. he strolls the border of this main hall, taking time to look at each statue’s expression, each painting between the manmade stalactites of carved walls. even the tiles making up the ground capture his attention with swirls and blocks of black and white. he doesn’t have any desire to check the time and see how long he’s been here already. this is the best way to get lost.

he walks further down a wide hallway away from the main hall. there’s more open light, and the colors of paintings and moldings are more vibrant. the long stretch looks even bigger; the small silhouettes of the people walking ahead of jongdae remind him that the ceiling is tens of times taller than them. his feet follow the endless mosaics on the floor. 

another hall. there seem to be more people gathered here, maybe because there’s something that looks like a slightly smaller version of a cathedral tower inside. four columns holding a platform covered with gilded frames and paintings of saints; more columns but with the spaces in between them filled with what look like strands of beads; all leading to a triangular point with more gilded molding and carvings. jongdae hasn’t seen anything like it, not even on tv. again, he stares and drinks it in with his eyes. the tick of time is inaudible in the white noise of footsteps and mixed voices. next to him he hears the shutter of a camera snap several times in quick succession - not the click of a smartphone - and turns his head. 

familiarly tall and handsome, black and navy clothes. him again. it’s surprising even though it’s not: they had been heading in the same direction, and it’s said that you run into the same people over and over again. small world stuff, but it still feels amazing that they’d be this close. out of all the people on this block, out of all the people in this church, out of all the people in this hall. 

he feels a faint tug in his chest - the push and pull struggle between uncertainty and longing. he feels a little uncomfortable talking to a stranger when he doesn't even have a real reason, but he can feel he'll regret it if he doesn't say anything.

then he remembers: he hasn’t been paying attention to his surroundings for a while, and he really doesn’t know where he is. this is faster than walking to a tourist information center. probably. he takes a step forward.

"excuse me?" jongdae tries. handsome man looks up, looking a bit startled, and jongdae realizes his hand was waving a bit in front of him to get handsome man's attention. oh. "do you have.. wifi? your phone? my phone.. is out of battery. hotel.. i'm lost?" jongdae hasn't spoken this much english in a while, but it could be worse.

"oh," handsome man finally replies. "yes, yes i have wifi." he rummages through his sling bag and hands his phone over. jongdae takes it and nods his head in thanks.

"oh! your phone is in korean!" switching back to his native language sends a rush of relief through his body. "and i don't know your passcode.. sorry, but if you could.."

handsome man's eyes widen; he hadn't thought that far, perhaps. "my mistake," he says, reaching over to enter his passcode. jongdae can't help noticing that it's 1111, and he cracks a smile. "it's always nice to meet a fellow korean over here," handsome man continues. "vacation just started?"

"yeah. at least i made it to my hostel before i got lost." jongdae finds his hostel on the map easily enough, but he zooms in and out of the screen a bit to try to see the surrounding neighborhood and the fastest ways to get back. it's a little much for a nonlocal to memorize, and jongdae realizes he really has no idea what he's doing.

"where do you live?" handsome man asks, frowning a second later at his own wording. "i mean.. where are you staying? i've lived here for a while so i can probably help you."

"really? thank you so much!" jongdae scoots over so handsome man can see the map on the phone screen better, ignoring how much taller the other man is than him. "it's here, in monti, but i'm not sure what the best way to go is... earlier i took a tram but i walked for a while afterwards, so..."

the other man looks at the screen. “there’s a metro stop about five minutes away from here. that’s the easiest. i have to take it anyways, so i can show you there. we’ll probably be on the same line for a bit at least, since this area is a little out of the way.” 

“ah, i see! thank you for taking the trouble to help. i really appreciate it,” jongdae says, handing the phone back to the handsome man.

“it’s no problem,” he replies, and his little nod and smile of politeness is somehow comforting. 

there’s a pause that feels much longer than it is, where they look at each other to figure if they’re both ready to leave or if something else is going to happen instead. a silent question of ‘are you ready, because i’m ready but i’m also okay if you’re not ready.’ two small nods, and then they walk outside, the sounds of their footsteps lost amongst passing cars and chattering tourists. 

“it’s really lucky that i ran into another korean by accident,” jongdae says after a bit, not wanting the silence to grow even more. “but you said you’ve lived here for a while? an extended vacation, or work or…?”

“for work, although it does feel like an extended vacation sometimes.” he smiles at that. “i’m a photographer. i do a lot of my shoots here, and i go back to korea to see family and do some other work, some publicity events when things are busy.”

“a photographer… wow!” jongdae exclaims. “i’m just here on vacation for a while. i don’t have a return flight ticket yet.”

“oh?” the metro station is here. down a step, down another step, towards the underground. “why’s that? trying to escape real life?”

jongdae laughs. “yeah, sounds about right.” probably not a good idea to tell all of his personal secrets to someone he met within the last hour.

they wait for the train that heads towards the center of the city. next train in one minute, according to the board above the platform. the air in the tunnel starts to hum with the boom of the ever-approaching train, and jongdae realizes he skipped the first step in talking to someone new. not that it was the obvious choice considering that there’s a chance he might never speak to this guy after today.

"oh, sorry for not asking earlier, but what's your name? i'm jongdae. kim jongdae."

the train has stopped, and the doors in front of them open with a distracting digital-sounding chime of a bell. after they board, the man turns so he’s looking at jongdae. "kim jongin," he answers with a small smile.

"wow, our names are so close! we could be brothers.” the doors close, the train picks up speed, and jongdae has to cling to the bar to keep his balance. “we seem to be around the same age.. can i ask what year you were born in?"

"94," kim jongin says. "but i’m a rooster sign, if that makes a difference.”

"ah, i'm 92! and monkey sign. blood type b.”

kim jongin laughs at that. “blood type a.”

the automated voice says the next stop over the speakers, and soon the train rattles to a halt. the doors slide open and some people exit before more people enter. 

jongdae starts again. “can i ask…” kim jongin looks up from the ground, eyes round. “do you know of any good places to eat in monti? it’d be nice to have a recommendation from someone who’s local… rather than just wander around myself, you know?” there’s another question in there, but jongdae’s talking too much already.

“mmm. there’s a lot of good places to eat in monti.” kim jongin’s eyes flit away for a moment as he thinks, and jongdae realizes he’s probably been doing that thing where he stares too much at people while they talk. “it’s kind of hard to give directions since you don’t have a map, though?” he glances away again, and then back. brown brown eyes. “if you want, we could eat together. traveling solo can be kind of lonely, especially when you eat, right?”

jongdae smiles. “yes. yes, that sounds great.”

 

-

 

“there’s a pasta place i really like that should be close by,” jongin explains when they’ve exited the metro. “a lot of places are really good, since it’s rome, but this one is less touristy and has pretty decor. but…” he frowns at his phone screen, which seems to be loading too slowly. “i have to look up exactly how to get there.”

fifteen minutes later, they’ve walked up and down the same street three times and jongin won’t stop running his hand through his hair, apology written on his face. jongdae laughs internally because his chosen navigator has now become the one that’s more lost. he feels a bit awkward standing there with no sense of direction and no way to help. jongin’s stomach growls loudly enough for jongdae to hear it, and they walk into the next small restaurant they see after jongin scans the menu outside. 

“i’m sorry that didn’t quite work out,” jongin apologizes as they sit down. he smooths the edge of the checkered tablecloth with his left hand. 

“it’s fine, it’s fine. you’re already going out of your way to help me again.” the sweat on his back will cool down soon enough anyways, jongdae thinks.

they order pasta, of course. jongdae goes for carbonara, and jongin chooses something with a long name that jongdae can’t remember after three seconds. 

a table next to them roars with laughter. some others clinking their glasses join in. 

“so, how did you end up working in italy?” jongdae asks. 

jongin rests his chin in his palms, lightly drumming his fingers against his cheeks. “hmm, i guess it started when i was still in high school. i came with my sister on a trip here and i took a lot of photos because it’s so pretty. the photos turned out really well, and i applied to art schools with a photography portfolio. finished school, worked in korea for a bit, and then i searched for opportunities in rome because i missed it. it’s getting trendy for korean couples to have wedding shoots in italy, and advertising campaigns too, so that’s how i came back.” a waiter brings bread to the table, and jongin gestures for jongdae to take a slice. “it wasn’t a lifelong dream to move to rome and i didn’t expect it to happen. but i like going between two places.”

jongdae chews on his bread slowly. “that’s so interesting. the ways life works out and the places we end up in.”

even for someone like jongdae who can be talkative, a starting conversation like this can be tricky. there's commonality - shared language and culture, similar age, visitors of sorts in a different place - but meeting by chance once isn't necessarily a fate that will continue, and even when both sides are friendly there's some caution. even if jongdae reaches out, they can’t be instant friends like they could have if they had met 15 years ago as kids.

there are questions that naturally lead to more questions before they die. there are also answers that stop to a halt much faster. inevitably, there are lots of pauses. jongdae isn't sure how hard he should try to fill them.

“the church from earlier - it’s kind of a tourist attraction, right? were you there for fun, or…?”

jongin looks up from his plate, still chewing. there’s a small streak of red sauce on the edge of his mouth. “just for myself. basilica di san giovanni in laterano -- a bit of a mouthful, isn’t it -- is a bit out of the way but it’s nice to go there every so often. there’s so much to look at and i feel like i notice new things each time.”

“yeah, it’s so beautiful,” jongdae agrees. “i’m glad it wasn’t too crowded. and glad i found it even though i was just wandering around.” 

jongin nods while stacking several noodles on his fork. even though he suggested eating together, he doesn’t seem like someone who often initiates things. jongdae’s good enough at that. he’s learned to ask questions without interrogation.

jongin is from proper seoul. jongdae is from siheung, closer to the sea. jongin misses korean fried chicken, and jongdae misses his mom's seafood noodles and soup. they played a lot of the same video games growing up. younger siblings with fewer rights to game controllers.

“of course, i’m paying,” jongdae says as they clean the last of their plates. “since you helped me so much today. and i’m older.” he’s overexplaining even though they’re both korean and know this already.

“thank you, and it was no problem,” jongin replies with a nod of appreciation. “like i said earlier, it’s nice to meet another korean here. like a familiar face you’ve met before.”

the waiter gives them the bill with a “thank you!” in english and an incorrect “ni hao.” jongdae rolls his eyes as he counts out the right number of euros. 

the evening air is much more pleasant than the weather earlier. the orangey-yellow glow of streetlamps lights up the streets more softly than noon sun rays, and the breeze is stronger. jongdae notes that the night sky isn’t as dark as jongin’s black shirt. 

luckily they don’t get as lost this time and can find the street of jongdae’s hostel with the help of jongin’s phone. they stop at the corner to double-check the gps map. other people pass by speaking italian, english, maybe chinese. jongdae thinks about communication, and that tug of longing starts to reemerge.

“do you have kakaotalk?” jongdae asks. 

“hmm? oh, yes, here.” jongin opens the app and hands his phone to jongdae.

search id, add friend. "send me a message sometime!" jongdae says. “it’d be nice to meet again.”

jongin nods with a small smile and an equally small wave. "sleep well."

"you too. good night!"

the creaky steps of the hostel seem to echo that back. it was a good night. not totally lost in a foreign city and a reminder of home.

 

-

surprisingly, jongdae wakes up at a reasonable time. he rolls over to a message from his mom (“how are you? jet lag better yet?”) and about ten from baekhyun (ranging from “where’s my present” to “are there a lot of hot italian boys” to “you haven’t been killed yet, right”). he replies to his mom’s message and only sends an emoticon in response to baekhyun, who of course sends something back right away. 

there’s only one other group there when jongdae goes downstairs for breakfast, an american couple who seem to be discussing where to go next judging by the number of italian-sounding names they try to say. the coffee is strong, even for jongdae. normally he would skim news headlines at breakfast, but the point now is to escape. he could always ask minseok if something really important happened.

today is a day of wandering, again, but in a smaller area this time. jongdae asks the hostel owner where the nearest market is and gets to borrow a reusable grocery bag. if he’s going to run off to a foreign country and make his mother worry, the least he can do is buy some extra fruit to eat.

jongdae is just another tourist in these streets, another person passing through. in transit and out of place, but no one expects anything of him. lines of cars border the sidewalks on the main street, and the next smaller street has lines of scooters instead. order and peace is different here. 

the market is old-fashioned and new at the same time. the signs and price tags are faded with use, but someone pays for their groceries with their phone. he wanders down the little aisles to see what’s different from what he knows; ordinary places like this are sometimes more indicative of culture. there are more types of cheese in this one store than jongdae’s ever seen in his life, although that isn’t really saying much. no triangle kimbap, he thinks randomly, and pain aches in his chest for a quick moment. it’s not as if he isn’t going back. he drops another apple into his bag, the weight reminding him of why he’s here. 

on his way back, a cat slinks by and doesn’t even glance at jongdae. self-sufficiency, he thinks, and pleasure in being alone. he’s only halfway used to it, and he can’t tell if he’s getting better yet. 

he flops on his bed after finishing one apple. the tiny bedroom does feel bigger when it’s daytime and the sun streams in - a good napping environment, but jongdae doesn’t nap well. time ticks slower in this little room, in this city, and he has more than enough minutes to spare to reply to the few messages that piled up. rapid-fire from baekhyun, who actually does worry about jongdae in between lines of insults and jokes. a ‘how are you’ from junmyeon, who probably keeps a record of how often he’s talked to his hoobaes so that he doesn’t accidentally forget anyone (as if he ever would anyways). jongdae allows himself three minutes of quick scrolling through other social media to make sure nothing astounding has happened to the people he knows. three minutes and then he puts his phone down before it gets dangerous.

jongin hasn’t sent him a message yet. jongdae picks his phone back up and looks at jongin’s kakao profile picture again: a shot of a brown poodle overlaid with a pale filter that could have been trendy four years ago. not someone who updates his social media a lot, maybe. jongdae wants to send him a message, but what if he's busy? has other people to meet? what if he was just being nice and didn't really want to talk to jongdae again?

well, he won't find out until he tries. he's spent too much time thinking about this already.

_hi! it was nice meeting you the other day! can i ask what you really recommend i see in rome? esp things that are underrated? thx!_

he doesn’t expect an instant response. not having high expectations makes things easier. sure, he would like to see jongin again, maybe more than he’d like to admit to himself, but sending the message this way makes it easier for jongin. there’s an easier way out for him, no burden for him to play tour guide for jongdae the outsider. 

the sun sets and dinner passes by. he stops to watch an elderly man sing and play his guitar on the street. the sound and the atmosphere are different from the buskers in seoul, but jongdae likes both. he throws a few coins into the open guitar case and exchanges a quick smile with the singer. small things like this can lighten his steps, and that’s all he needs right now.

back at the hostel, his phone beeps over the creaking of the stairs.

_hi :o_  
sorry im not good at texting or kkt  
n i had a shoot today  
mm rome is so pretty there are so many things  
too much to write out n confusing mb  
hows tmrw? i can show u around some if u want :3 

jongdae smiles at his phone and forgets to open the door to his room for a minute. another thing about low expectations: when they’re exceeded, the surprise feels that much better.

 

\- 

 

kim jongin is standing on the street corner looking at a camera, perhaps scrolling through past pictures or adjusting settings to take new ones now. jongdae walks up to him, but the other man doesn't look up until jongdae talks.

"it’s nice to see you again. hope you haven't been waiting long," jongdae says.

"don't worry, i didn't. i guess you didn't get too lost on the way. glad you’re here." kim jongin smiles lightly as his eyes roam around the street, assessing pedestrian traffic or something else. the light turns green, and they start to cross, steps in time with the traffic light ticking.

"so, there are a lot of things to see in rome, but there are some places that a lot of people ever get around to seeing because they're running from the colosseum to the pantheon, and you know. i think it's nicer to just walk around certain streets and look around... to feel what it's like to actually live in rome. history is nice, but it's different."

"that's what i want," jongdae says, smiling in agreement. "wow, it's such a relief i could find someone like you. i'm sure your taste in sightseeing is nice since you're a photographer too."

"i hope so. but rome is so beautiful anyways."

jongdae hums in agreement, and he looks around as they walk slowly. the next side street ahead seems to be residential and quiet, filled with pink, yellow, and grey wall faces faded with age and shrouded with vines around the edges. people sitting outside a restaurant with a striped awning laugh and speak in rapid-fire italian. a few birds peck around their feet at invisible crumbs. the next building comes into view and the street is behind them, laughter fading as new conversations of passerby flit in and out of jongdae's hearing range. he could sit at one spot and drink everything in that small area in, but there is so much to see. a slow pace, but not too slow - jongdae will follow kim jongin's lead right now.

they're walking up a hill. jongdae's realized that already, but the slope incline has increased in the last few blocks. the street noise is still there, but the number of pedestrians and the sound that comes with foot traffic has gone down enough for jongdae to notice. the sidewalk sloping up has a small wall on one side, and even though they're not at the top jongdae likes the slightly elevated view. the sun beats down, but the bicycles passing by are somehow refreshing with the slight breeze they bring.

there isn't really anything at the top of the slope; it's more about what's underneath them. standing in a gap in the trees behind a small cobblestone wall, they can see a view of the city rooftops from here. high enough that it feels separate, like they're guarding the city from the outskirts, but close enough to the ground that jongdae can see people walking by, getting into taxis, parking their bicycles. living.

"i don't know if people normally go to viewpoints like this as a first stop, but i thought it'd be nice because because it's like... the big picture?" jongin scratches the side of his neck, like he's nervous. jongdae tries not to think it's cute. "and you get the uphill part out of the way. but it's also really nice at sunset. different colors."

"yeah. it's so bright now. i love it," jongdae says. he doesn't want to put on his sunglasses just yet. white clouds dot the blue sky, and the colors of the buildings - red tiles, white stone, brown and grey in between - won't look quite the same with a darker tint. a calendar picture he'll try to remember in his head.

"turn around. i'll take a picture of you," jongin says.

"oh, it's okay, you don't have to." jongdae forgets that kind of thing sometimes, especially when there's barely anyone else here and definitely no tourists' selfie sticks as a reminder.

"it's your first sightseeing place! you should send a picture to your parents, at least, so they know what you're doing. here, i'll take one on your phone." jongin insists, it seems.

jongdae hands over his phone. he puts up a peace sign and smiles when he hears 'one, two, three.' somehow jongin looks different holding a phone than other people; maybe it's something about how he holds it in his hands, or something about how he looks at the camera. maybe jongdae's just imagining too much about a photographer.

"i took a bunch," jongin says. "in case you closed your eyes or something's blurry. a habit of mine."

"thanks." their fingers brush as jongdae takes his phone back, but jongdae doesn't think as much of it as he might have initially. it just feels nice. 

he leans forward against the wall, rough stone under his palms, and just looks out some more. jongin has taken out his own camera, and the clicking sounds serve as a counter of how many pictures he takes. three, four, five. there's a bit of silence, and a snapping sound louder than before. jongdae looks toward it and into the camera lens. snap, again.

"oh, i hope it's okay," jongin says, lowering the camera. "you just looked so lost in thought. in a nice way. i just took it without thinking."

"oh, it's okay. i'm just-- not used to being photographed. i don't take pictures that much."

"i probably take enough to make up for it," jongin says with another slow smile. shy. "you're a good model. your cheekbones are really nice."

"that's it?" jongdae asks, raising his eyebrows, and they both laugh at his joke. a breath of wind breezes by, ruffling their hair, and jongdae thinks of summer, of carefree times and new friends.

they mix in and out of tourist crowds throughout the day. trevi fountain, because everyone goes to see it anyways and the fountain is refreshing. there are lots of people there (unavoidably), but waiting for the crowd to flow by means they can eventually squeeze in a gap right next in front. when jongdae checks his phone to see the photos that jongin took of him, he also sees an accidental video: three seconds of the selfie camera on jongin's face, a "oh!" of surprise, and the switch to the back camera. how a professional photographer can make a mistake like that, who knows, but jongdae won’t delete it. jongin also takes pictures on his own camera again, but it's a different one, apparently smaller and with actual film. there's only one time jongdae poses for that camera, but he can't hear the clicks to confirm how many pictures jongin actually took.

the square is lined with shops and restaurants too, almost all quite bustling just because of the number of people constantly coming in and out. neither of them care for the louis vuitton store, but there is one that jongin heads for as soon as he spots it.

"we're really lucky," he tells jongdae. "i've only been here once because the line is usually so long, but it's shorter than usual today." jongdae pays for them both, and jongin barely has time to flash a smile of thanks before he starts eating. "before it melts," he explains.

jongdae takes a picture first. the first gelato he's eating in rome is important enough to document himself. he angles the cone so that jongin is in the background, blurry but still visibly hunched over as he licks his cone like a child.

"why are you eating so fast?" jongdae laughs. "are you afraid it's going to disappear?"

"yes," jongin replies. "eat yours and you'll understand."

jongdae does. it is, to say the least, another category of delicious. now he's going to have to be one of those people that says normal ice cream isn't good enough, or so-called gelato that isn't actually italian is therefore fake gelato. even though jongdae misses korea, eating gelato instead of bingsoo isn't such a bad substitute.

"we shouldn't have gotten gelato before lunch," jongdae says as an afterthought, but he doesn't really feel bad.

"okay, mom." jongin lets out a huff of laughter at himself, and that makes jongdae smile twice as much.

they get lost in side streets, but this time on purpose. jongin leads them down one that's a favorite of his because of a few buildings that have misshapen outlines due to corners still crumbling from world war ii bombings. it's a grim reminder, but the damage is beautiful in its own way, and the buildings that stand undamaged after reconstruction show the gaps in time. or something like that. jongin's voice is nice to listen to, and once or twice jongdae gets caught up in it enough to miss a few words.

"i'll give you a picture from here when i develop this film," jongin says, even though he didn't take any shots of jongdae here. it sounds like he means it, but jongdae doesn't want it to be a burden to him.

the colosseum is more impressive at sunset, jongin insists. despite traffic and crowded subway stations, they make it there as the sky starts to glow orange. the shadows in the crevices of the columns grow darker too, and jongdae understands what jongin means. it's already a huge structure, of course, but now, as the light and shadows change every few minutes, jongdae feels like he could be swallowed up by the place. the colosseum towers above them, and all of the empty space in the arena reminds him of human power again. but it's not even that scary.

jongdae worries about that a little bit. if he sees so many amazing things and then gets used to them so that incredible things are only satisfactory. 'that's how it should look. if it's not incredible, then something's wrong.' but that won't happen yet, not here. the golden light casts the old architecture in another age, like they've gone back in time again where this image can't be a screensaver photo even though it more than deserves to be.

people look more beautiful in sunset glows like this too. a bright smile becomes brighter. sparkling eyes are even more like suns. in the hours where the sun fades to black, a time of transition, people look more timeless than ever.

jongin looks nice too, of course, especially when he smiles as he counts "one, two, three." jongdae smiles for the picture, but he's happier about being here. in rome, away from seoul, with someone he can call a friend now. he hopes.  
there's dinner too, because if you've spent a whole day with someone then it doesn't just stop at sunset. jongin actually finds the place this time since the area gets more foot traffic and web documentation than the street in monti, and jongdae doesn't mind the wait outside to get in. he doesn't take having someone to eat with for granted.

the pizza in korea is nothing like pizza in rome, for sure - rome pizza an original, not a remix of the american remix of pizza. jongdae enjoys it and tries to eat slowly, which is easy if he just looks around. outside the window all sorts of people pass by, but jongdae's eyes keep coming back to how excitedly jongin eats each slice of pizza. clearly he's eaten this before, but the expression on his face is like he's eating it for the first time - a child's first trip to the candy store.

"you have sauce on your face," jongdae laughs when they finish eating. jongin reaches a hand up to cover his mouth instinctively, smiling but embarrassed.

"is it gone?" he asks. some of it. jongdae points closer to where the remaining spot is, and jongin wipes it away. there's a faint orange mark still, but jongdae isn't about to tell jongin to wash his face, or worse, wipe it all away for him.

summer evenings in the streets of rome have all felt nice to jongdae so far. he loves the old streetlamps; the cats that dart across the smaller streets when no one's looking; the sound of people talking outside dotted with laughter and sometimes shifts into singing. he doesn't think the track record will break, and these nights are even nicer with company. even though jongdae came here to be alone, this is probably better for him. 

their steps are slow and relaxed. there's no hurry to head anywhere. jongin isn't the most talkative person, but jongdae doesn't mind the silence; it's a different kind of peace. jongdae can focus on syncing his footsteps with jongin's, and then watch as they naturally fall out of sync after a few steps in jongin's long stride.

their steps sync again when they reach the subway station and walk down, down, down the steps. another step of the same stride when they cross the line between platform and train.

"thank you so much for today," jongdae says.

"no, thank you," jongin says. "playing tour guide, if you can call it that, was more fun than i realized it would be. and i got a free model out of it too." amongst the clamor of gusts of air and metal on metal, probably only jongdae can hear him.

"then we have to meet up again," jongdae replies. he can push, but not too much. "so you can at least give me the pictures you took."

"of course." he sounds more sure than jongdae expected, like he's making a promise he really means. jongdae wants to believe it, but he's never been the best at trusting people easily. there isn't anything untrustworthy about kim jongin, but jongdae can't so quickly believe that a photographer who's met a tourist twice will want to keep meeting again. he has his own life here, after all, and jongdae isn’t that special.

"i think this is my stop," jongdae says after the speaker makes its announcement.

"you know how to get back?" jongin asks with a wink.

"yes." jongdae normally smiles a lot, but this time he does it without realizing.

the train jerks to a halt and the doors chime open. "get back safely," jongdae says, waving both of his hands.

"you too. and sleep well." the train doors close before jongin stops waving.

 

-

 

jongdae wanders again.

he finds his way over to the river. summer is still in full strength and the breeze is weak today, but walking by the water at least gives the illusion of feeling cooler. the tiber is less wide than the han river, and instead of sloped grassy banks and border of rocks at the edge of yeouido park, flat pavement and the occasional mossy areas border the tiber. jongdae walks on the stretches of pavement right next to river, sometimes trying to match his pace to the few lazy ripples on the otherwise flat surface. there’s also a different kind of peace found in walking above the river at the same level as the buildings and bridges across; peering over the edge of the steep walls and watching the occasional cruise boat drift by almost make jongdae think he’s looking into a castle moat. it’s like a fairy tale hidden in what makes up daily life for romans.

he goes back to the overlook point that jongin brought them to, but he waits until sunset this time. the sky fades more red today and the rooftops glint like soft fire rather than gold or amber. it feels like a first-class kind of solitude for a while, but the fading light is too romantic to let jongdae escape feeling a bit lonely. there's only one other duo up here taking in the view, but what if. he takes pictures on his phone and thinks of jongin, wondering if photos taken on a better camera could really capture this light.

on his way back, he runs into the american couple he saw at breakfast in the hostel before. they recognize him too, and when they invite him to dinner jongdae finds himself saying yes because why not. over buttery pasta and meat platters, he belatedly remembers how friendly some people can be. jongdae’s english is not the best and not really good enough for a conversation, but the couple keeps smiling and trying, and jongdae can smile back easily enough. this is good for him. he wouldn’t do this in korea.

it’s still relatively early when they start walking back to the hostel, early enough that jongdae doesn’t want to sleep yet anyways. that makes it even easier for jongdae to agree to follow the americans into a bar on the way back. more travelers and people lost in translation, but it matters even less here where the music is loud and the buzz of alcohol is constant. jongdae hasn’t had a drink in a while anyways, and drinking with strangers is better than drinking alone right now.

but it doesn’t work the same way he almost hoped for. there is nothing wrong with this american couple or the italian girls that he chats with for a few minutes, besides the lack of fluency in a common language. jongdae drinks enough to feel a little fuzzy without getting really drunk, but he’s still thinking about the same thing. the ways strangers meet and click, and the ways they don’t. the way he didn’t click perfectly with kim jongin but is still thinking about him somehow, this person who went from stranger to acquaintance-friend to someone who keeps hovering in jongdae’s consciousness. jongin isn’t here having wine or a beer or even a virgin cocktail with jongdae, and jongdae is still having a decent time cheering with random people in this bar, but he wishes jongin was here. that soft smile that sometimes hides behind a camera, those sparkling eyes, that occasional laughter that jongdae wants to hear more.

maybe he hasn’t known jongin for that long, but jongdae has known himself long enough. he only has a limited number of days here, and he wants kim jongin to be a part of them. 

maybe trusting people isn’t as difficult as jongdae thought it was. then again, he’s always had a bad habit of caring too much even when it could hurt him. this is not a fairy tale, jongdae reminds himself, but he lets himself admit that kim jongin is pretty close to a prince in a foreign land.

 

-

 

jongdae’s throat tickles still when he wakes up. water, yes. and food in his system would be good. crunchiness has never been so sweet, and he thanks himself for buying apples before.

oh, right. he’d been willing enough last night to message baekhyun briefly about jongin before falling asleep, as if telling someone about a secret that wasn’t much of a secret would make it more likely to come true. from the lack of usual teasing in baekhyun’s reply, it seemed that he sensed that jongdae was slightly drunk at the time but serious in intention. 

_there’s no harm in trying. and if there is, you’ll get over the temporary pain. because you’re strong._

so jongdae tries something a little different after showering off the sweat from his sleep. he hopes the wifi and data connections don’t betray him. 

jongin doesn’t pick up the kakao call, and jongdae hangs up after he’s heard enough of the jingle signaling nothing on the other end. he wonders if he pushed too far, if a call is too much of an interruption, if timing is bad -- and then his phone buzzes in his hand with an incoming call. jongdae’s heart shouldn’t be beating this fast.

“hello?”

“hi. sorry i couldn’t pick up at first. my phone was in a pocket in my camera bag and i couldn’t find it. you called?”

“i wanted to hear someone’s voice.” jongdae barely stops himself from saying ‘i missed hearing your voice.’ 

“oh.” jongdae can visualize the cute shape jongin’s lips must be making. “yeah. sometimes talking on the phone is easier for me than messaging.”

“how busy is your schedule for the next two weeks or so?” 

“kind of busy. i have some wedding shoots.” jongin hums into the phone as he pauses to think. “and if possible, i’ll be shooting a lot of a certain model i met recently. nice cheekbones, you know.” jongin laughs into the phone after talking, and the size of jongdae’s smile when he realizes makes his face hurt. 

“you should let that model know, then. what’s the schedule, location, if gelato is part of the plan.”

“hmm, i should. model kim jongdae, are you ready for a new gig?”

“i think we should discuss the details over food.” where jongdae can hear the calm warmth of jongin’s voice without the crackling interference of the phone audio.

“i guess we should.” 

 

-

 

discussing details over food extends over more than one meal and more details than photoshoot logistics. not that either of those were the main objective anyways. there is no careful calculation of push and pull; jongdae never pushes too hard, but jongin always goes along with it. carefree smiles and nods of affirmation, from lazy and ambling to brushing around his shoulders as a pleasant surprise. like this, he can feel summer breezes in the evening even when he’s not by the river.

jongin brings out the hidden corners and details that would have taken jongdae much longer to notice. he points out which gelato place, pizzeria, or wherever place might be better to go to, and jongdae is the one who drags them inside. he watches jongin order for them in his passable italian and then in the next moment almost burn the roof of his mouth from the piping hot suppli al telefono or get brain freeze from strawberry gelato. 

“this should be available in korea,” jongdae says of suppli al telefono when he first tries it. “fried rice balls filled with cheese. it’s not like we don’t eat these things anyways.”

“mmm,” jongin agrees through another bite of molten mozzarella. he’s looking at jongdae with round eyes, shoulders hunched as he holds the paper bag of snacks, still hot. “mmmf.”

“slow down,” jongdae laughs. “you can’t talk through a mouthful of hot food.”

jongin lets out a light gasp as he swallows the last bite. “ah, hot, hot. but you have to eat these hot or they don’t taste good,” he whines with a small frown. “like cheese and ribs in korea. if you don’t eat it fast enough then the cheese gets too hard and you can’t wrap it around the meat.”

“very detailed,” jongdae notes. there’s a distracting strand of mozzarella hanging off jongin’s lower lip, and he hasn’t licked it away yet. maybe jongdae is the detailed one. 

“what?” jongin notices him staring. jongdae sighs and brushes crumbs off of the bottom of jongin’s dark green shirt and wipes the string of cheese off his lip with a napkin. 

“you don’t want to get your camera dirty, right? that’s not very professional.” 

“oh. you’re right. thanks, mom.” 

or another time, with mango gelato instead because jongdae tells jongin he should be a little more adventurous. “as if living and working in a country a 13 hour flight away isn’t adventurous,” jongin says, but he agrees anyways and deviates from his usual order of strawberry. 

“then you should get bacio,” jongin tells jongdae. “the name means ‘kiss,’ but it’s chocolate with chopped hazelnuts. better than nutella.” 

“okay,” jongdae says. and jongin orders for them. a kiss for me, jongdae thinks except it’s just the name of a candy and a gelato flavor. 

standing in the sun for their first few bites (because jongin can’t seem to manage walking at normal speed and eating at the same time - good food requires concentration) becomes another habit. the short minute they need to stop the cones from melting in their hands draws itself out into a moment jongdae remembers each time: sunrays of noon or 4 pm or the last minutes of day shining on jongin’s face or his always wind-tousled hair; a few drips of gelato on his hand or the ground until jongdae yells and jongin sees the spot he missed; and smiles that take over because somehow each time, no matter what time, gelato is still that good. jongdae has never loved routine all that much, but with jongin it’s not routine so much as repeating something good again.

“is there anything left on my face?” jongin asks when he’s finished his cone and stolen a bite from jongdae’s. he sticks his face toward jongdae - he’s prepared and waiting this time.

jongdae just wipes the smear of mango at the corner of jongin’s mouth away with his thumb without a second thought. 

“thanks~” jongin says. sometimes his replies are like singing, and his eyes are round and full of that look again, that look that jongdae still can’t decipher all the way. 

it isn’t that weird, really. jongdae is touchy with his friends, especially after hanging out with baekhyun enough. jongin is different from most of jongdae’s friends, though, and everything is different here. as much as parts of jongdae’s days feel like scenes of those movies about escape in summer and nostalgia for youth… this is not a movie. even if jongdae is a runaway, this is not a fairytale rescue. 

jongin makes it harder to remember that at times. he transfers and develops the pictures from their first full outing and gives them to jongdae. 

“i promised i’d give you pictures,” jongin reminds him, and jongdae feels guilty for ever doubting him. the digital files that he previewed on his phone are gorgeous already, but these physical photographs are more so. dreamily faded and blurry in just the right places so that it really looks like they were in a movie. 35mm that he can hold close to his heart and more intimate than any ‘i love you’ jongdae’s said out loud. 

jongdae says ‘thank you’ instead, and he wonders if this is the part of a movie where both of them regret not saying anything. but they have time left, and this isn’t a movie.

movies here are different anyways and not just because they aren’t korean films. jongdae had watched some foreign films in korean theaters, but even the few outdoor screenings in korean summers are different from rome’s. piazza san cosimato transforms from day market to open air cinema, and all the stalls amongst the golden buildings with old square windows give way to seats and people’s extra folding lawn chairs. the large raised screen is aggressively modern in front of the olden style architecture, a movie image itself. 

one day they manage to grab seats in one of the last few rows. jongdae does pay some attention to the film itself, but it’s not his fault that there are distractions like the people whispering and getting up behind him or characters in the film saying too many words in a row that jongdae can’t understand. oh, and jongin. jongin, who should be a normal person but somehow in this light has sparkling eyes that jongdae can’t stop noticing. jongin, whose loud laughs at movie slapstick are so different from his usual shy giggles but are even more contagious and endearing somehow. jongin, who is the most beautiful person jongdae has ever seen and at the least has jongdae completely infatuated by now.

jongin, who takes pictures of the scene at first but starts yawning too much only halfway through the movie, and jongdae, who has given up on restraint and gently pulls jongin closer so his head rests on jongdae’s shoulder.

“just say you want to go home if you’re sleepy,” jongdae mutters. “we didn’t have to stay out for a movie.”

jongin doesn’t respond with words. instead, jongdae feels jongin relax against him, heavy warmth against his side, and jongin shifts his head to fit more comfortably on jongdae’s shoulder. it’s the best thank you that jongdae’s ever received.

maybe sometimes life does happen like the scenes in a movie. movies have to be based on something real, don’t they? 

 

-

 

“you haven’t been to a bridge at sunset yet, have you?” jongin asks. jongdae has, but not with jongin, and everything with jongin feels different. when they go somewhere together, it’s as if only then jongdae can really see all the details with another set of eyes; jongin’s added perspective makes everything more beautiful. so jongdae says no, he hasn’t been yet, and jongin takes him there.

wandering around all day sometimes makes jongdae forget that july sunsets in rome are so late; nine pm marks just the beginning of twilight. timing the sunset is never an exact science, however, so jongin worries a little too much and makes sure they arrive at the ponte sisto before eight to make sure they don’t miss the beginning of the best colors. if there are any, that is.

“i hope the clouds stay,” jongin says absentmindedly. 

“hmm?” jongdae looks up at the sky.

jongin fiddles with the camera in his hands, looking around for potential angles and shots. “usually the colors are prettier when there are some clouds. especially these cute round ones.” he points at some of the puffy clouds and smiles. jongdae does too.

“you really care about the sunset that much?”

“well, since we’re here.” jongin bites his lower lip before it sinks into a pout. “is it weird to care about sunsets? does no one else?” 

“i guess it makes sense, with you being a photographer and caring about colors and stuff. i’ve just never met anyone else who does that much, that’s all. i think it’s cute,” jongdae adds. 

“oh,” jongin says. the orange glow of the sun can’t hide the red flush on his cheeks.

they stroll up and down the length of the bridge as the sun takes its time sinking. jongin takes pictures nearly the whole time: he has to switch angles and levels, he has to switch cameras depending on the look he’s aiming for, and the lighting is constantly shifting. sometimes jongin swivels around without any warning to catch jongdae in a candid state, but it backfires because jongdae starts laughing at the camera after he notices it and can’t keep a straight face.

“it’s okay,” jongin grins as he shrugs. the motion somehow makes him look smaller even though he’s still so tall. “pictures of you laughing actually will probably be better.”

after a while they stop and just lean against the edge of the bridge to watch the rest of the sun’s descent. other people walk across the bridge, but jongdae and jongin aren’t the only ones standing still and waiting. it’s slow motion and sped up all over again, where everything around them seems to pass by quickly and jongin’s eyelashes flutter at half speed.

“the clouds are almost all gone,” jongin huffs in disappointment. “it’s still too orangey. it’d be nice if there was some pink too.”

“let’s wait and see.”

and sure enough, after ten minutes the sky dims and other colors creep up from the horizon. even without the clouds, ribbons of scarlet and rose reach up to blend with the darkening wave of blue above. for a few short minutes lavender and periwinkle make appearances, and then the streaks fade to navy over the small horizon glowing whiter. jongin’s cameras only click minimally; when jongdae looks over, he sees jongin watching the sky more than adjusting his lenses. 

ironically, jongin notices jongdae looking over when the light is almost gone. jongdae has memorized his face enough to know exactly what jongin looks like beyond the blur of twilight’s filter. he leans closer anyways. dusk, and jongin’s eyes are still on jongdae’s. slow motion of jongdae thinking, oh, this is okay, and double speed when they close the distance and their lips meet. just a soft kiss of assurance. double speed as jongdae’s heartbeat echoes in his ears and they smile in sync.

in afterthought, jongdae wishes he could give jongin the sky in pinks and purples every day.

\- 

jongdae just goes with it now. some power in the universe let him have this much, and he’ll take this summer romance and jongin’s time for him that is almost endless. when jongin isn’t working on wedding shoots during the day or in the early evening, he and jongdae are together. like fragments of sunshine sparkling with the gentle ripples of the river.

 _i’ll be back later today because of a sunset shoot,_ jongin messages him. 

_it’s okay if you’re tired,_ jongdae replies. 

_you haven’t had ramyun at all since you’ve been here, hmm? i want some today anyways. i’ll pick you up at the hostel._ and jongin is rarely insistent, so jongdae agrees.

“no way in hell,” jongdae almost shouts when jongin arrives in front of the hostel. “you waited this long to tell me you have a scooter? and a vespa scooter at that?”

jongin’s hair is all sweaty from the helmet, and jongdae hates that he looks this cute. but also hot, because he’s on an actual vespa. “hi.” he opens the back seat and pulls out another helmet, holding it out to jongdae. “let’s go?”

“yes.” jongdae takes a picture of jongin on the vespa first, V sign and wide smile included.

cruising over cobblestone and down roads with little traffic in the night wind is what jongdae will remember now when he thinks of freedom. jongdae turns his head in every direction to watch the buildings whiz by and the streetlights trail away. the vespa hums under them, hot and red, and jongdae yells when the road curves and his heart thumps faster in the best way. having his arms locked tight around jongin’s waist isn’t so bad either.

ramyun is at jongin’s apartment, it turns out. they share out of the little golden pot that jongin must have brought with him from korea, steam still rising as jongin slurps too quickly and burns himself again. 

“wait for the cheese to melt,” jongdae protests, and jongin has to agree because he’s too busy panting to cool his tongue down. even his eyes are squeezed shut. “this kid never learns.”

jongin just opens his mouth expectantly after a few seconds, and he’s so cute that jongdae has to feed him a bite. “it tastes better when you’re here.”

“so cheesy.”

“that’s the ramen. we put cheese in, you know.” jongin cracks up at his own joke. jongdae laughs along because jongin’s high-pitched laugh is infectious.

“but i mean it,” jongin says more seriously. his eyes are all round again, worry and understanding and attention all swirled together in meaning that jongdae is closer to deciphering now. “i like being alone, eating ramyun late at night in my apartment. but it’s better with you.”

“me too.” jongdae puts down his chopsticks and watches jongin eat the rest of the noodles. “you know, i kind of followed you at first. i was just wandering, and i got off the same tram stop as you. then i got lost, and eventually i found you by accident again. i didn’t know we would be together like this.”

“oh.” jongin leans in to rest his chin on jongdae’s shoulder and link his arms around jongdae’s stomach. so touchy, and jongdae loves it. “so you liked me from first glance? following me. how sneaky.”

“not really,” jongdae admits. “of course i thought you were handsome, but i didn’t _like_ you like that instantly. you just looked… different from everyone around you. and then i wanted to be friends, and then i realized i liked you way more than that.”

“how lucky, then,” jongin hums. jongdae leans back against him. “i don’t know if destiny really exists, but i’m glad we met.”

jongdae presses a light kiss to his cheek, and jongin hunches his shoulders in embarrassment with that soft smile. even though jongin is the younger one, jongdae feels protected in jongin’s arms. safe at home.

“but i don’t want to leave,” jongdae whispers, because he has to say it some time. “i ran away here, but i can’t stay. i have to go back to seoul and get a job and do everything i’m supposed to do but haven’t done yet. i have to go back where everyone is better than me and everything sucks.”

jongin’s hand rubs slow circles on jongdae’s thigh, and it only helps calm some of jongdae’s nerves. they sit there leaning into each other for a while. jongdae can almost hear jongin thinking.

“it’s hard,” jongin starts. “for everyone. i’m sure you know that. and everyone is hard on themself. but you have value, jongdae. you know how to make people laugh and feel like a friend immediately. something about you felt special right away.” 

jongdae starts tracing an outline over jongin’s fingers, because he doesn’t know how to respond to something like that. 

“i’m a good example of this,” jongin continues. “i don’t talk a lot to people i don’t know. but you came up to me asking for help, and i stayed with you because you were so warm and friendly. and i met up with you again because i really wanted to, even after only a few hours of meeting you before.” his eyes crinkle in a smile first before his mouth, and jongdae can’t help but kiss him again. “anyways, you’re good with people. and you’re honest and you care and i know you can work hard. it’s hard now, maybe, but you’ll have your chance. lots of things happen by luck too.”

“like you,” jongdae says, finishing tracing another outline of jongin’s hand so he can link their fingers together. who’s the cheesy one now. 

“stay here,” jongin says quietly, sleepily, and jongdae stays for the night. when jongin falls asleep first and the rhythm of his breaths slips over jongdae’s shoulder, jongdae wonders what it would mean to really stay. here, away, with jongin. but fairytales run out eventually, and no matter how good the world is to him now there is no magic that can keep him in hiding forever.

 

-

 

jongdae’s money comes close to its end, and he books his flight back to korea. the last few days are slow motion and sped up. jongin smiles for a split second so that jongdae can remember it forever, and they go around an extra lap of the block on the vespa because jongdae likes it so much. jongin takes pictures of the dome of the pantheon, the oldest ruins in the city, and the pop-up shops along the banks of the tiber during the day. he actually uses his phone to take selfies of them when jongdae isn’t looking, and jongdae has to remind him to send the pictures over kakao. they walk along the bridges crossing the river at night, their fingers interlaced or jongin’s arm around jongdae’s shoulder. 

their last meal before jongin takes him to the airport is gelato, unsurprisingly. cioccolato all’arancia and fior di latte. jongdae still has to use an extra napkin to wipe a drop off of jongin’s sweater.

“wait,” jongin says before jongdae can walk over to the security line. “these are for you.” he pulls out a thick envelope from his bag. “it’s the rest of the pictures i took while you were here.”

“oh.” jongdae doesn’t tear up easily, but his throat is suddenly tight and drier than before. “thank you, jongin.” 

“i promised,” jongin says again, as if jongdae needed another reminder of how good he was. “i was happy. am happy. and i won’t forget.”

“you better not,” jongdae replies, trying to smile the hurt away. “and come back to korea soon. i’ll buy you cheese and ribs or whatever you want.”

“okay.” and now jongin’s tearing up. “go, before you’re late. message me. i promise i’ll respond.”

when jongdae looks back one last time after security checks his passport, jongin hasn’t stopped waving. 

 

-

 

 _i landed in korea,_ jongdae types and sends. he knows jongin probably won’t check his phone for a while or will forget to charge it, but he’ll see eventually. jongin will do that much for him.

even in the dark, the heat in korea is suffocating as ever. jongdae hopes he doesn’t get a mosquito bite while he waits outside for the next airport bus back to the city.

as soon as he gets back to his apartment, he pulls out the thick envelope and pins up all the photographs jongin gave him. photo paper, polaroids, a few printouts of phone camera shots; rome in city rooftops and cobblestones, bridges and rivers, summer breezes and jongin’s bright smile. home feels more like what home should feel like. now a sanctuary of memories hangs on his walls.

jongdae didn’t think to try it before. maybe it feels safer now because there’s actual distance between them. he searches for ‘kim jongin photographer’ and clicks on the first link that looks like an actual website. 

the home page is minimal: white background, a short list of links at the top, and then a column of featured works. jongdae can’t even scroll past the first set because the first picture is of him. the first time overlooking the city rooftops of rome, when jongin had told him that he made a nice model and apologized for taking a picture without permission. it’s a good thing jongdae is only on his phone and not looking at a big desktop monitor or else he might actually cry.

there’s a link to instagram on jongin’s website, and jongdae clicks on that too even though he already misses jongin too much. another grid of soft colors and dreamy corners of italy. and more pictures of jongdae, ones he posed for and ones he didn’t. jongdae selects one that he didn’t remember jongin taking, a shot of jongdae leaning over a bridge and looking across the water at the last rays of the sun. 

_if i hover around the same place every day,  
we’ll be able to meet again, won’t we?_

every photo has a caption, and every caption is like this. sometimes jongin quotes specific songs or poems, and sometimes it’s clear he wrote it himself. it’s his work instagram, but there is so much of jongin in every square of color and text. how can a heart be so full and yet so longing, jongdae wants to ask.

there isn’t anything jongdae can message jongin or anything he could say even if jongin would answer the call on time. instead he sends a picture of his new photo wall. _safe and sound._

 

-

 

even mid-october is brutally cold. jongdae likes skyscrapers of glass and metal and streets filled with neon lights well enough, but there is nothing warm about them, especially when it’s dark well before dinner and the wind blows more harshly all day. 

cold, cold, cold, but jongdae is glad because another day means less time to wait. he closes the curtains in his apartment before he leaves every day to make sure the photographs on his wall don’t fade in the sunlight. he even made instagram so that he could turn on post notifications for jongin’s account. (to see if there’s a caption posted for him even when ‘to: jongdae’ is never typed out.)

at least he finally managed to find a better job, even if he was hired way later than his friends and it’s still a less prestigious job. there wasn’t a magical change after he came back from italy. jongdae just had to endure endure endure and persist until the right chance accepted his effort. it’s still hard, some days much more than others, but it’s better when jongdae wakes up to a kakao reply that jongin sent in the middle of the night in seoul time.

now it’s the clean tiles of the airport as jongdae waits. the flight was on time and hopefully baggage claim wasn’t delayed. jongdae is a patient person, but he waits and waits and waits so much that his breathing starts to catch in his chest. tick tick, tick tick.

and through the arrival walkway walks a familiarly tall figure, grey and navy and a camera blocking his face. click, click, with one hand as he walks up to jongdae a little too slowly.

“i wanted to get your face when you first saw me,” jongin admits. 

“how artistic,” jongdae mumbles as he presses himself against jongin’s chest in a hug. in his imagination, jongin’s coat smells like strawberries and the air by the river.

jongin doesn’t have that much luggage, but jongdae insists on rolling it anyways and carrying it down the stairs because the elevators to the subway trains take too long. if the station here wasn’t so grey and modern looking, the two of them waiting on the platform could feel like deja vu. _the train has arrived_ , and so has relief.

the doors of the express train close with a beep, and the dark outsides of the tunnel start to blur as the train moves. they are in transit, in between, but because jongin is here and smiling with jongdae, even this can feel like heaven, like home.

**Author's Note:**

> if you made it, thank you for reading all the way through !! the caption to that photo jongin posted of jongdae is a loose translation of lyrics from kevin oh's 어제 오늘 내일, the song i mentioned in the beginning notes. anyways. chenkai make me soft


End file.
